Two hours and fifty minutes. That’s all I knew about this production of the Tennessee Williams classic and I was prepared for a long sit. Not that there’s anything wrong with lengthy dramas but often the old plays could benefit from some surgical trimming. Well I’m very happy to say the La Femme Theatre Productions’ revival of The Night of the Iguana is an engrossing sit, beautifully acted under the direction of Emily Mann who mined every shred of nuance and wisdom embedded in this deeply felt work.
The Night of The Iguana which first opened on Broadway in 1961 is considered Williams’ last successful work, and in many ways it’s a companion to his very first success, The Glass Menagerie which premiered in 1944. Both display a poetic lyricism detailing a central character, much like Williams himself, who yearns to escape his tormented existence. The two plays are rich with symbolism and heart, cementing Williams’ reputation as an absolute master of the craft, a writer with extraordinary insight into the human condition in all its complex, messy glory.
The play, set in a rundown hotel along the western coast of Mexico in 1940, concerns the arrival of T. Lawrence Shannon (Tim Daly), a defrocked Episcopal minister turned tour guide who’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His current trip, leading a busload of women from a Baptist college in Texas, is not working out too well, especially after he bedded one of the students – a “not quite 17 year old” – days earlier.
[Read David Finkle’s ★★☆☆☆ review here.]
He’s decided to take a slight detour bringing the ladies to his favorite Hotel Costa Verde where he hopes to decompress for awhile…but the ladies have different ideas, and one of them, the “butch” chaperone as he describes her (played to indignant perfection by Lea Delaria), is giving him hell and demands to continue on with the trip. The hotel is run by the recently widowed Maxine (Daphne Rubin-Vega), a shrewd, lusty woman who’s set her sights on keeping Shannon around.
Shannon is an emotional wreck. A recovering alcoholic, he finds it hard to control his passions; and he’s riddled with guilt after being locked out of his church for the spiritual crimes of fornication and heresy. With a history of “crack ups” and threats of suicide, he clearly needs a lifeline. And that’s where the character of Hannah Jelkes (Jean Lichty) steps in. She is a 40 year old “New England spinster” as she describes herself, who’s arrived with her elderly grandfather in search of rest and some decompression of their own. They are essentially traveling hucksters, penniless at the moment but getting by on their minor talents. She’s a sketch artist, and 97-year-old grandpa is “the world’s oldest living practicing poet” as Hannah bills him.
On this one night in the hotel, Shannon and Hannah develop an intimate connection. She comes to the conclusion that he suffers “the oldest problem in the world – the need to believe in someone or something”. The question remains: can Shannon, a man full of self doubt and loathing, ever believe in anything that would give him the solace he desperately needs?
The answer lies with the two women who see him so clearly. Shannon may be the main protagonist in this play but there’s a reason the Femmes theatre company chose to produce it. Maxine and Hannah are the driving force behind Shannon’s potential recovery. Maxine knows that there’s a difference between loving someone and wanting to sleep with them, and she’s determined to satisfy both desires with Shannon. Hannah reveals that she’s suffered the same “spooks” that Shannon often describes when he’s plagued by bouts of depression, and she aims to get him through the worst of it.
As heavy as the play may sound, there is also much humor to be found. Evoking the emotional complexities at the heart of the work is hard enough but landing the comedic aspects at the same time presents quite a challenge. Fortunately, the cast is masterfully up to the task.
It must be exhausting to play Shannon night after night. Daly, who’s in practically every scene, has the lion’s share of lines and he is terrific, delivering often at whiplash pace. He manages the comedy and tragedy with equal skill and it is a treat to watch how he bobs and weaves as he confronts his demons — both the human and mental kind.
Rubin-Vega puts a human face on what at first seems to be a stereotypical character. Her Maxine is sexually promiscuous and she can seem heartless. But she is a realist, and in time, makes a very compelling case for all her actions. That’s hard to pull off, but as written and nicely performed, Maxine is a woman who admirably knows how to get what she wants by hook or crook.
Lichty, in the role of Hannah Jelkes, is most impressive. Hannah is a spinster who’s literally been around the block; and she’s learned how to survive day to day by hustling for pennies. It’s made her strong and self aware. And she’s very centered, having made the decision early on to become her grandfather’s companion and caretaker. Lichty, who’s also La Femmes executive director seems born to the role, beautifully underplaying Hannah with great warmth and compassion.
And speaking of greatness, Austin Pendleton at the age of 83 has still got it! As the addled poet, it takes tremendous acuity to portray advancing senility while at the same time doing justice to Williams lovely poetry and then nailing the laugh lines with bravura timing. Pendleton is a living stage legend!
The play is not perfect. There are peripheral characters who don’t seem all that necessary, principally a pair of German guests at the hotel who come in and out applauding Hitler’s incursions in Europe. They are minor flaws in an otherwise excellent production, made all the better by a design team that nicely conspires to evoke a very definite time and place. Special mention to Jeff Croiter for his gorgeous sunsetting skies bathed in purples and pinks.
The Night of the Iguana is something of a fugue, much like a piece of music with interwoven themes repeating and advancing on each other. A particular theme dominating the play is embodied by the iguana. Though not seen, it carries symbolic weight as we’re told the lizard is tied up under the hotel and meant to be slaughtered. It represents Shannon’s inability to escape the dreaded bonds that tie him into emotional knots.
“Fugue” also refers to a loss of identity and flight from reality. The brilliance of Williams was his ability to hold up a mirror to our vulnerabilities as we try to come to terms with who we truly are. …Iguana, like so many of his plays, reminds us that no matter how hard we struggle, there is hope at the end of the proverbial rope.
The Night of the Iguana opened December 17, 2023, at Signature Center and runs through February 25, 2024. Tickets and information: iguanaplaynyc.com
